


Masterpiece

by BrenanaBread



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, hahaha the overuse of italics we've come to know and love from me, mlshipfleet valentines exchange 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenanaBread/pseuds/BrenanaBread
Summary: A simple touch is all it takes to change the lives of Chloé Bourgeois and Nathaniel Kurtzberg forever.Chlonath soulmate AU





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribbling Mama (melgibson87)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melgibson87/gifts).



> For a Valentine's Day Exchange <3 :)

Chloé takes a deep breath and clenches her fist, counting backwards from twenty in her head as she begs herself not to scream.   
  
It’s difficult. Her stomach drops and her feet feel like they’re made of lead even though she wants nothing more than to run from the wide-eyed boy currently clutching her wrist from where he tried to save her from falling.   
  
His thumb is pressed against a vein and she can see the faint blotting of purple from his touch mingling with the line of blue extending from her palm through her wrist and disappearing into her forearm.  
  
She can’t tell if her heart is racing or if it has completely stopped and the uncertainty shocks her into motion.   
  
She wrenches her arm from his loosened grasp and quickly covers the circular mark he’s made from his contact with her skin with her opposite hand. She rubs it soothingly, willing the purple to go away.   
  
“I-I’m so-” he begins, but she cuts him off with an icy glare.   
  
She doesn’t speak, just looks down at her wrist one last time, her anger dissipating with the knowledge that the purple is only a faint wisp, undetectable to anyone not expecting it.   
  
She turns on her heel sharply and quickly walks away, throwing her hair and a huff over her shoulder and hoping she can successfully feign nonchalance for the rest of the day. She won’t let anyone know what she’s discovered. Not until she’s ready. Chloé Bourgeois doesn’t do anything on anyone else’s terms.

But still, she’s shaken and desperate for a private place to process. She needs time to figure out what the hell she should do.   
  
Because everything is different. Now that she has a soulmate.  
  


* * *

  
Nathaniel Kurtzberg has been told from an early age that he is special. 

He’d first begun to draw when he didn’t want to talk. He’d speak to his moms when he had to, but he refused to talk to doctors, family friends, strangers. He’d hide behind his moms’ legs, gripping their pants and folding their purses over his head.   
  
When it came time to go to school, he still found his mouth silent, unwilling and anxiously unable to communicate. But though his lips stayed closed, his hands were a fury of moment.   
  
He drew out answers to questions, penciled sketches of jokes he wanted to share with friends, dragged ink over the pages of books to help him focus.

  
He’d never seen it himself.   
  
He’d always felt very ordinary despite his talents. He’d thought if everyone in the world spent as much time working on their own passions—be they math or pottery or running or singing—as he spent drawing, they’d be just as talented as he was.   
  
So he never felt like a prodigy or a genius. Just a boy with a hyperfixation that ruled his life. And he never felt special, as nothing extraordinary had ever happened to him.   
  
That is, until a blonde girl’s foot caught on a step and she tripped up their school staircase just as he was walking down.   
  
Their paths had crossed many times before—mostly unpleasantly by his own accounts—but Nathaniel would never let harm befall an individual that he could have prevented, no matter the color of their previous interactions.   
  
He’d never thought of himself as a particularly graceful person and his physical education grade indicated his hand-eye coordination might not be quite up to par, but he’d found himself moving without even a thought.

He’d reached out a hand to prevent her from falling, and that’s when he felt all the air zap out of his lungs.   
  
A purple smudge blossomed on her wrist, the only place his skin directly touched hers. His other fingers encircled her wrist, but her sleeve fell far enough down her arm to block the contact. A matching purple mark coated his thumb as well, and he instantly  _ knew _ .

Nathaniel Kurtzberg had never believed he was special.   
  
But now his thoughts are entirely different. Now that he has a soulmate.   
  


* * *

  
“Are you okay? You’ve been acting a little strange all week,” Sabrina says, munching on her sandwich and fiddling with her lunch box   
  
Chloé turns to her, ice in her gaze. “Excuse me?”

Sabrina swallows and her eyes grow wide behind her glasses. “I’ve just been a little worried about you!” she defends.   
  
Chloé flips her ponytail over her shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with her friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been perfectly pleasant.”   
  
“Of course.” Sabrina hangs her head a little, but she’s used to the treatment enough that she doesn’t pause in her eating. “I just want you to know,” she swallows “that you can always talk to me. About anything. I’m here for you, Chloé.”   
  
And though she huffs and pretends to clean up her nails in annoyance, she truly does appreciate the sentiment. But she’s still not going to talk about having a soulmate. And she’s definitely not going to say it’s Nathaniel Kurtzberg.  
  


* * *

  
“Are you a serial killer?”

  
Nathaniel startles, knocking over the cup of dirty paint water next to him and cursing under his breath.   
  
“What?” he asks incredulously once he finds paper towels to clean up his mess.   
  
Alix lifts the goggles from her face and rests them on the top of her head. They bunch up her hair around her forehead and ears in an adorable way, but no one would dare tell her that. “Are you a serial killer? Or a stalker of some kind?” she asks, shaking a can of spray paint.   
  
“No?” he scratches his brow in confusion.   
  
“Are you asking me or telling me?”   
  
“Telling you?”   
  
She cocks her hip. “Come on, Nath.”   
  
“Telling you,” he nods definitively. “I’m definitely, for certain, one hundred percent  _ not  _ a killer or stalker of any kind.”   
  
She eyes him carefully, tapping the toe of her shoe to the ground a few times as she contemplates.   
  
“Alright, I believe you. But only because I once saw you vomit when Mylène got a paper cut, not to mention how you ran from the room when Mme. Mendeleiev first mentioned dissecting frogs last month.”   
  
“There was a lot of blood!” he defends. “And dissecting frogs is cruel and awful, I’m not ashamed of that.”   
  
“She was telling us about how we would be the first class to do an  _ online frog dissection lab _ ! You were literally never going to be near a dead amphibian!”    
  
“That’s just—” he cuts himself off. “Actually, why am I arguing this? I’m not a serial killer or a stalker and that’s all that matters.” He points his pencil at her face, almost touching her nose with it. “I don’t care how you come to that conclusion, but it’s important to me that you reach it.”   
  
She wacks it away with her free hand and sticks her tongue out at him. “Soft bellied and kind hearted Nathaniel could never murder anyone.”   
  
“No, he couldn’t,” he nods resolutely in confirmation.   
  
“So then why have you been drawing the same wrists for the past five days, hm? Seems a little psycho.”   
  
He covers his sketchbook with an arm without even looking down at it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“Yeah okay, Nath. It’s not like we’re in here  _ every, single day _ after school. And I definitely haven’t been sitting  _ directly next to you _ in class for the past month. Pft, what would  _ I _ know about what  _ you’ve _ been working on?”   
  
He doesn’t respond and looks at the tip her ear marked with a tinge of green paint instead of at her eyes.   
  
Alix groans in annoyance, throwing her hands into the air. The spray paint can rattles as if it too needs to express its exasperation with Nathaniel.   
  
“You’re impossible, you know that? I know what you’ve been drawing, and it’s been the same thing! I’ve never seen you get this fixated on something.” She wipes her brow with her forearm and turns on her heel. “It’s weird.”   
  
“I’m just trying to practice,” he calls out to her as she goes back to her station.   
  
“Sure you are.”   
  
“I am!”   
  
She adjusts the canvas on the ground in front of her wall, protecting the floor from paint. “I’m not denying it.”   
  
He groans. “But you’re saying it like you don’t believe me.”   
  
“I believe you.”   
  
“You don’t.”   
  
She looks at him over her shoulder while adjusting her goggles back over her eyes. “ _ Maybe _ you’re the one who’s projecting your insecurities of your own dishonesty onto me.”

He considers her words for a moment, letting them roll around his brain. Alix turns away from him to focus back on her project and he knows the conversation is over. That, of course, doesn’t stop him from mumbling under his breath, “I still think it’s you.”  
  


* * *

  
It’s eight days after their initial contact that Chloé and Nathaniel touch again.   
  
The rain rolls off of Nathaniel’s coat in heavy droplets and he pulls the strings of his hood tighter to his head while half-running up the stairs. His hands are soaked and some of his fiery, red hair is dulled and sticking to his forehead and cheeks.

He’s rarely late to school and he thrusts out his hand trying to grab the front door before it closes.

It whips open faster than he anticipated and he’s thrown back a step from the momentum. His arm flails and his fingertips brush the person behind him. He doesn’t even look back, just tosses a polite “sorry!” over his shoulder and scurries inside, frantically trying to make his way to the classroom without slipping on the muddy floor.

He doesn’t realize why, but he does note the odd tingling on his skin when he finds his seat at the back of the classroom.

He’s still staring at his hand when Adrien asks him a question.   
  
“Huh?” he looks at him with wide, confused eyes.   
  
“Nathaniel? Are you feeling alright?”   
  
He mumbles “mmhmm” while tapping his fingers along his desk, trying to dislodge the feeling. “Why would you think otherwise?”   
  
Adrien looks at him skeptically. “Your cheeks are really flushed and you’ve been staring at your hand since you got into the classroom.”   
  
“Oh,” Nathaniel hangs his head “my hand just hurts, is all.”   
  
Adrien doesn’t look convinced   
  
“And it’s cold out today. My raincoat just isn’t cutting it, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders and moves to take out a notebook, trying to signal the end of their conversation.   
  
Adrien raises a brow at him. “I also asked you a question three times and you never responded.”   
  
Nathaniel lifts his head guiltily and mutters a soft “oh.”   
  
Smiling down at him, Adrien flattens his hands on Nathaniel’s desk. “No worries. I asked if you wanted to work at your desk, since Max and Rose have taken my spot next to Nino.”   
  
“Wha?”   
  
“For the project?”   
  
Nathaniel eyes the room, realizing that it has completely shifted. Backpacks are pushed into different spots and a number of his classmates are seated in wildly different locations.   
  
“You really didn’t hear? You, me, and Chloé are working on the literature assignment together.”   
  
“Chloé?” he almost whispers under his breath.   
  
“And since Chloé has been in the bathroom since Mlle. Bustier told us our partners, Sabrina and Alix already started working on their project at Sabrina’s desk space.” Adrien points in the girls’ direction, smiling at them as they laugh together. “So you’re the only one with free space. Is that cool?”   
  
His stomach has dropped out of his body and he’s pretty sure there’s sweat on his brow, but he can’t deny the flutter in his heart at the mention of Chloé. His soulmate.    
  
“Uh y-yeah, sure, no problem,” Nathaniel stutters.

“I suppose that means you didn’t hear my other question either.”   
  
He smiles sheepishly. “No, sorry.”   
  
“I just asked if you happened to have a pencil sharpener on you. The one in the classroom is still broken.”   
  
“Oh, of course.” Nathaniel turns in his chair, rummaging in the outer pocket of his backpack so firmly engrossed in his task he doesn’t notice how the chatter around him dies.   
  
He doesn’t notice the clack of shoes from a confident walk or see the icy stare tossed in Sabrina’s direction.    
  
“I know it’s around here somewhere,” he grumbles, red fringe falling into his eyes.   
  
He’s still pushing highlighters and pens and erasers and index cards out of the way when Mlle. Bustier cheerfully points up to him and Adrien.    
  
“I really need to go through my bag more often, this is ridiculous.”   
  
He accidentally stabs his finger on a pair of scissors he’d forgotten about when someone huffs as they sit down beside him on the bench. But he still doesn’t notice.   
  
“Aha!” Nathaniel turns back around, bright purple sharpener in hand.   
  
He doesn’t realize there’s a person sitting next to him.   
  
He doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten to him.   
  
He doesn’t realize that holding out the sharpener to Adrien will mean his hand will accidentally brush theirs.   
  
Not until he hears a muffled scream and his eyes dart to vivid blue ones.   
  
They’re frosty and bright, catching on the light in a way that makes him hold his breath.   
  
Nathaniel’s brain hasn’t quite finished processing, but Adrien’s gasp snaps him into motion.   
  
“Holy shi—”   
  
“Shh!” Chloé jumps to her feet, slapping a hand over her friend’s mouth.   
  
Adrien’s eyes are wide, trained on the spot where a sky blue, oval mark covers Chloé’s skin.   
  
“Bmuh yhuhr sohwmay!” he tries to speak around her hand.   
  
“Adrien!” she whisper yells, pressing more firmly into him.   
  
Nathaniel can only sit back in his chair, staring at the blue staining the side of his hand, watching it slowly fade from sight.   
  
“Are you going to keep your mouth shut?”   
  
Adrien’s eyes narrow at her.   
  
“Do you really think I give a shit if you lick my hand? Who the hell do you think you’re messing with, Adrikins?”   
  
He huffs and she finally lets go, wiping her hand on his overshirt and mumbling about how disgusting public school has made him.   
  
Adrien’s eyes dart between Nathaniel and Chloé searchingly.   
  
“So you two…? Are…?”   
  
“Yes.” She sits back down in her seat. “We are…” she swallows and grits through her teeth “soulmates.”   
  
It’s the first time either of them has acknowledged it out loud and Nathaniel’s heart stutters.   
  
“That’s incredible.” Adrien slides into the seat on the other side of Nathaniel, eyes wide and disbelieving. “It’s so rare. I hardly believed it even happened anymore.”   
  
“I know.” Chloé absentmindedly brushes her fingers across her wrist and nibbles her lower lip.   
  
Adrien continues, elbows on the desk and hands delving into his hair. “Have you ever actually  _ met _ anyone who has a soulmate? I thought maybe it had died out, if it had ever even existed in the first place.”   
  
“I know,” she says again, but Adrien barely slows down.   
  
“And for you two to have been in the same  _ class _ ?”   
  
She closes her eyes. “I know.”   
  
“For all this  _ time _ ?”   
  
“I know.” Her head lowers.   
  
“How did you not know?!”   
  
“We get it, Adrien!”   
  
The entire class silences at the outburst, staring at a red-faced Nathaniel.   
  
“Sorry, everyone,” he slumps down in his chair. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”   
  
It takes a moment for his classmates to return to their tasks, but once they do, Chloé doesn’t waste a moment before glaring at Adrien with shining eyes.   
  
“We didn’t talk, okay? We’re not friends, we don’t know each other, we’re not in the same circles at all.” Her voice gets lower and lower as she continues to speak.   
  
She gestures at Nathaniel with a flick of her wrist. “Did you really think I’d end up with a guy like  _ this _ ? Because I sure as hell didn’t.” She tugs on her ponytail, but not in her normal effort to straighten it. It’s an anxious, mindless movement and Nathaniel tries to convince himself it’s not endearing.   
  
She continues, “How would either of us have known, huh Adrien? Enlighten me, please. Because I’m struggling to understand.”   
  
The three of them are silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the space between them.   
  
Nathaniel can feel the stuttering of his heart and he counts each off-beat. It’s maddening. It’s  _ deafening _ . He’s not sure he can sit there for a moment longer.   
  
So he doesn’t.   
  
He swings his legs out of his seat, slightly kicking Adrien in the process and walks quickly out of the room.   
  
Chloé stares after him, a sudden heaviness leaning on her chest. She’s never felt a tug on her heart this way before, and she realizes she wants to go after him. She  _ longs _ to.  
  
_ What the hell,  _ she thinks.

“What the hell,” she hears.   
  
But she knows her mouth hasn’t opened and it’s Adrien’s touch on her arm that pulls her out of her thoughts.   
  
“Seriously, Chlo. What the hell.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” she picks at her nails, avoiding eye contact.   
  
His thumb gently rubs her forearm in small circles. “Why are you...you can’t treat him like that, Chloé. He’s your soulmate. And if you don’t want to be with him or get to know him at all, that’s  _ fine, _ but you can’t treat him like that.”   
  
She sniffs, but doesn’t refute him.   
  
“He deserves…” Adrien searches for the right word, lips pressing tightly together in concentration. “...kindness,” he settles on. “Basic human decency.”   
  
Chloé’s silent for a moment, then utters a tiny “I know.”   
  
“He didn’t do anything. He’s just as frightened and confused about this as you are, Chlo. And here you are, just throwing him to the sharks.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“I know deep down you don’t think less of everyone in this classroom. I know  _ you _ . You’re not just obsessed with status and money and influence. So why are you holding yourself back with him? Why don’t you want to get to know him at all?”   
  
Her silence speaks volumes.   
  
“You need to talk to him.” He knocks his shoulder into hers playfully. “Besides, you might even get a friend out of it.”   
  
“Yeah,” she laughs weakly, staring at the classroom door. “Maybe.”   
  


* * *

  
Nathaniel is deep into his math homework when one of his moms pokes her head into his room.   
  
“Nathaniel, honey? You have a visitor.”   
  
He sits up on his bed, tugging an earbud out. “Huh? Is it Alix?”   
  
She opens his door wider and he sees her.   
  
Blonde hair and sharp, blue eyes.   
  
He hates that his heart leaps when their eyes meet.   
  
“Can I come in?” she asks.   
  
He hates that he doesn’t even consider saying no.   
  
His mom leaves them alone with a soft smile and a reminder to yell if they need anything, but only seconds later they’re sitting on his bed together in complete silence.   
  
They don’t make eye contact as he shuffles his textbook and papers off the bed and onto the floor, stretching the activity out for as long as possible.   
  
When he’s done, the foot of space between them might as well be light years.   
  
He counts the ticks of the clock on his nightstand and his left hand fidgets with a pencil. His foot starts to go numb from where he’s sitting on it, but he’s afraid to move. Afraid to accidentally brush her. Afraid to make contact.  _ Afraid to speak, afraid to breathe, afraid to look, afraid to _ —   
  
“Hey.”   
  
Her voice cuts through him like a knife.   
  
“Hey,” he responds and his voice is hoarse and gross but he’s so proud for even pushing it past his lips.   
  
“I wanted to...apologize.”   
  
He’s stunned.   
  
“For earlier. It was wrong of me to say what I said to you. You didn’t deserve that.”   
  
Is he breathing? He’s not sure he’s breathing.   
  
She turns to face him, bringing her leg up onto his bed. It almost touches him. Almost.   
  
“I don’t really believe that, you know?” She spreads her fingers out on his bedspread, bunching up the fabric lightly. “I don’t think less of you for not being rich or famous or anything.”   
  
“Then why do you say it?” the pencil flips out of his grip and he stares at it longingly on the floor.   
  
“I don’t...I don’t know, okay?”   
  
Even though he’s not looking at her when he lifts a brow, she can feel the question flow off of him.   
  
“Yeah, fine, maybe I do. Maybe I know exactly why. Maybe I know exactly why I say things like that, but also know it’s not enough to be a valid excuse. Maybe it’s just easier if I let other people fill in the blanks themselves so I don’t have to personally confirm what a terrible person I am.”   
  
They sit in silence for a while and Nathaniel can tell she’s pulling on her ponytail in that anxious way once again.   
  
“You’re not a terrible person.”   
  
He feels her eyes snap to him.   
  
“I’ve never thought you were a terrible person. Difficult, maybe.” She smiles a little at that. “But not terrible. I know you care about people, Chloé. You’d do anything for some of them And it’s okay if I’m not one of the people you care about. And I know this whole situation is weird and strange and it’s not like anyone ever told us how to prepare for a soulmate—”   
  
He’s cutoff by her touch on his hand.   
  
It’s the first time she’s ever intentionally initiated the contact between them, and the thunder Nathaniel feels throughout his entire body can’t be just his imagination.   
  
“I do. Care about you, that is.”   
  
“You do?” his eyes search hers.   
  
“I do,” she confirms with a definitive nod. “But I….I don’t  _ know _ you. I wasn’t entirely wrong before. We’re not friends. We don’t know each other. We never have.”   
  
She takes a deep breath.   
  
“But that doesn’t mean we never will. It doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other, can’t be friends.”   
  
He holds his breath and counts to 5 before speaking.   
  
“Is that...something you’d want? To get to know each other? Be friends?”   
  
She places her hand on the back of his. “Yes.”   
  
In an act of courage, he flips his hand over and watches her fingers intertwine with his.   
  
The color shared between them is a rosy pink and as Nathaniel’s heart rate picks up at the touch, the color deepens, creeping closer and closer to a warm red.   
  
“Holy shit,” Chloé pulls her hand away slowly, staring at their complimentary marks. “It’s kind of...beautiful, actually. How it changes colors.” Her words are unthinking, but he hangs onto them anyway. “I’ve been wondering why it does that.”   
  
“I have a theory, if you’re interested,” Nathaniel offers.   
  
She wiggles a little in her spot. “Tell me.”   
  
“Well, I uh, think it may be linked to our emotions? So if we feel differently when we touch, the color changes to reflect that.”   
  
She considers him for a moment, eyeing him up and down with pursed lips. She nods to herself before rolling up the sleeve of the arm hanging between them and thrusts it towards him.    
  
“Show me.”   
  
His eyes fall to the blank canvas of her arm and he hesitates only for a moment before taking a deep breath and clearing his mind. He reaches out and drags a gentle finger down her skin, turning it a neutral blue.   
  
“This is the color of our natural, relaxed state,” he tells her. He draws a rectangle and colors it in, the blue changing in shade as his concentration fades in and out.   
  
Chloé hums in affirmation, content to let him continue the light touches.    
  
He pulls up thoughts of laughing with his friends over ice cream, running through the streets of Paris on a summer evening, watercolor painting high up on Montmartre. The color changes to a bright yellow and he smiles to himself. He was right.   
  
“This is what joy looks like.” He draws a circle in the upper right hand corner of the rectangle. A sun. “Pure happiness.”   
  
She holds up a hand to tell him to stop, and he quickly drops his hand.   
  
She pulls off her yellow jacket revealing a tank top underneath and gestures for him to continue.    
  
He does, filling her arms with trees and colorful birds and swirls and stars. He explains each color as he feels them, and she follows his every move with eager eyes.   
  
They spend hours together, each short moment flowing seamlessly into the next until the sun has set and Chloé knows she should be home. But she doesn’t want to leave.   
  
They learn some of the colors together and find they can hold images on her skin longer through concentration. Or Nathaniel can wipe them away with a quick and gentle sweep of his thumb.   
  
It feels like magic.   
  
Her skin never stops tingling, like butterfly wings skimming the surface.   
  
She feels loved. Cherished.   
  
“Nath,” she grabs his attention as he finishes the details of a bumblebee on her shoulder.   
  
“Mmhm?”   
  
“So, the colors are tied to our emotions.”   
  
And even though it’s a ridiculously obvious statement at this point, he responds kindly, without an ounce of sarcasm.   
  
“So then...what was that dark pink about? From before. Which emotion was that?” She asks innocently.   
  
His fingers stop on her arm and drop to his lap.   
  
“Oh, that.”   
  
“Any ideas?” she prompts when he doesn’t offer an explanation.   
  
He wrings his hands, picking at his nails.   
  
“Uh hmm, n-nope, nothing ah comes to mind.”   
  
His fingers pick up speed in their assault on one another and she leans forward, gently taking them into her own.   
  
“Nathaniel, it’s okay.” She rubs his knuckles soothingly.   
  
“I don’t,” he gulps when his voice comes out scratchy and tries again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chloé.”   
  
Her eyes fall to their joined hands and his gaze follows.   
  
The color she’s brushing along his skin is a deep pink.   
  
His mouth drops open at the sight and she has to suppress a laugh.   
  
Chloé reaches up to his chin and closes his mouth for him, brushing a finger across his bottom lip and enjoying the pink she spreads there as well. Nathaniel could certainly rock some of her lipsticks.   
  
“Yeah, I like you too,” she says softly before leaning closer to him and guiding his face to hers.   
  
Their lips meet in a gentle touch and she’s delighted by the prickle she feels. It only encourages her to press against him more firmly and the breathy noise he makes has her head screaming with happiness.   
  
When they pull apart, their lips are pink and red and yellow and she’s never seen a sight so beautiful. He’s a masterpiece. A perfect masterpiece.   
  
She feels like her life has completely changed.   
  
He feels like his life will never be the same.   
  
She knows her heart has never felt so full.   
  
He knows he’s never felt so lucky.   
  
Now that they have their soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> Hang out with me on tumblr :) [jattendschaton.tumblr.com](https://jattendschaton.tumblr.com/)


End file.
